


Fighting for a Moment

by wiltedartist



Series: Diana Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:15:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedartist/pseuds/wiltedartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is his best friend. The only one who understood what he believed in. And now he isn't sure how to cross the line and become something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting for a Moment

Garrus Vakarian is sitting in his room after the chaos of the crew being abducted. Leave it to him, he knows exactly what's about to happen. No way Shepard is going to sit by and let her crew be abducted. Hell, he's pretty sure she'd already break an arm for the Geth on board and it had barely been two weeks since he came along. 

And that means that it's probably now or never on the whole 'blowing off steam' business.

At first the idea makes him completely puzzled. It's not just the whole cross species thing. Well, it mostly is, but it isn't the thing that always makes him reconsider. It's that Shepard has been his friend this entire time. His best friend. Hardly a woman in his eyes- more like a moniker of justice and heroism. He doesn't boast loudly to anyone but her, because she is his equal. He's never quite felt like he was on such equal footing with anyone but her. 

He respects her more than anyone. She is attractive, though he doesn't quite get hair. And the Asari have a soft texture to their skin, but humans are another story. Most of them can be quite gangly and unattractive. It's mostly her eyes that draw him in and make him willing to do it. Soft blue that almost reminds him of a sniper rifle- it can be quite meaningless until you let your guard down. Then you had a bullet in your head.

Garrus sighs. He just compared the woman he was about to have sex with to a sniper rifle. Well, given his penchant for those, maybe it wasn't so bad. 

Humans are odd. All other species, really, are something he had never considered. And reading all the warnings of Turian-human relations could hint at why. If her thighs weren't wide enough it could be uncomfortable to do it the 'normal human way'. The normal human way was boring to a Turian, anyway, but he didn't know what she'd been expecting. Would she get halfway through and complain of chaffing? Would he hate the strange texture of a human woman's-

Well, at the very least, the thought of her in a compromised position did leave him a little hot and bothered. He wasn't sure if it was healthy that thinking of her as something vulnerable made him slightly uncomfortable- you know, in a good way – but he figured it was because she wouldn't admit he was the better shot.

And there he was, over thinking it all. Over thinking it as he put on the best outfit he kept on board, buying the best levo-amino acid champagne he could afford, and over thinking it as he knocked on her chamber door. 

The concept of emotions hadn't really come in to play. No matter the result, he would always respect Shepard. He would always view them as friends. And so he had pushed the whole 'other' business to the side. There was no way this would be anything more than a crazy one night stand between two people who were good friends and slightly crazy from an impending suicide mission.

But something is strange when she touches his face. The smooth skin of a human woman, she has never once touched him. He can feel ridges on her fingers from chafing and overuse. She is technically a heavy biotic, but he knows for a fact she prefers using shotguns until an enemy pisses her off. The signs of war and training are all over her hands.

Are humans so fragile that their bodies reflect every experience so easily?

Perhaps he is no better with the scars on his face. But he can't help but trace the healed edges of her face, where scars had been not so long ago, and run one of his hands down her shoulder. Humans always seemed so soft to him. He wasn't wrong.

And he realizes very immediately at the sight of her half naked body that humans are exceedingly fragile. That Shepard is fragile, and a form of life. The scars on her face are completely healed, but her body has a different story. There are slight synthetic signs on the lining of her waist and the rim of her arm. She delicately removes the nice Turian clothing from his carapace and he even helps her, Turian clothes are confusing in comparison.

Humans are nice and simple. Except for the damn garment under the shirt. He begins to try, but as his arms wrap around her waist, she smiles at him tentatively. 

“Don't bother,” she breathes heavily. It was a trap. She just wanted him close as she undid the thing herself and pressed the bare flesh of her chest against him. If that wasn't enough to make him pin her against a table and be done with it, she ran her fingers lightly against the ridges of his carapace. And then to his fringe. . . and then his mandible. She looks him in the eye and breathes, his hands are on her waist and they're not even fully undressed.

But he wants this woman more than he's wanted damn near anything in his life. 

So he promptly grabs her by her soft human hips and tries to kiss her. This odd, strange thing that humans do. He probably shouldn't try biting her right away- is his reason- and oddly, the 'kiss' works. His mouth flaps are rough and textured against her lips. He doesn't know why human lips are so soft, but he is completely alright with it as the tips of his mouth are stimulated with the rough pressure of soft flesh. A 'kiss' is meant to ignite passion, says the vids, and it does it's job, weird turian interpretation or not.

He doesn't know what it is, but the foreign sensation of something completely soft and smooth is invigorating. It helps that she is running her hands along his body roughly, simulating pressure but lacking the texture of turian skin. He could touch her body for hours but he wants more than that.

Turian genitalia is slightly shielded from outside environments. But he is aroused long before she has completely undressed him, and there is no need to explain that to her. She has completely taken his mind off firing algorithms. Except the one. Right. His mind was all over the place even as he said nothing, even as he only looked. Even when he tugs against the hem of her pants when her legs are half draped around his waist. Her toned legs fit right above the ridged portion of his waist, a comfortable position for both of them. 

The only hesitation is forcing himself to take a moment and add a layer of protection. Not like it would really matter, diseases don't affect them. It's the reaction he is worried about. He is fairly certain it would only cause pain, but he doesn't really take joy in causing women pain. Especially not, uh, the ones he is trying to please. But he looks to her for a moment even when that's done.

They're two people right now. Not a soldier and a commander. Not Archangel, not the First Human Spectre. She is just Shepard right now and he is just Garrus. They are best friends- companions- and the line between that and more is pressed right against the edge of his girth. 

“I want you,” she breathes honestly. 

“And I want you,” he responds, his voice reverberating in her ear. Hearing it as his mouth presses near her shoulder, she lets out a restrained moan. 

And he is inside of her. There is something that has been crossed- a line, a barrier, an understanding- it is gone now. But whatever it was neither of them see it as he shoves her hips roughly against him. Shepard roughly manipulates herself against him, moving in tone. He can't stand with that kind of reaction. But her desk is right there. He easily bares down on her from there, the gasp coming from her mouth a pure incitement of his lust.

Humans are too damn smooth. The sensation is so different from everything he has ever known, so different than what he was expecting. But damn if it wasn't good. Every inch of her bristles against him and rubs his ridges and fringe in excruciating pleasure. And he can tell it's the same for her- if not somehow worse. Turians are rough to the touch and even though he is not textured in the same way inside of her, he is still rougher than she is accustomed to. And it is hitting all her harder to reach parts. 

But she isn't so easily tamed. Her leg moves backwards just enough to make his next thrust harder, and he gasps out. If he could only make her move just a little differently here- and then it suddenly clicks. He reaches and grasps her hair in a bundle and arches her head backwards. So that's a good function for hair. She is positioned on her elbows now, her leg much farther than should be capable. She's bending in a much more soft way than a turian woman would. But she flexes and clasps around him with even the slightest movement.

It wouldn't be so bad to resist if she wasn't so determined to control even on the bottom. His thin waist is easily encompassed by her legs, and pulled so closely she almost wins that. But he maintains the grasp on her hair and one on her hip, and she croons softly in response. It's nice to win for a moment, before she presses her foot against his carapace and pushes him off. He panics for a moment, thinking it was awful, before she shoves him to the floor. 

The sight of her on top is worth the momentary loss. Her mouth opens. Her eyes close, he sees her every sensation. And he can tell she is deeply enjoying it. Her skin is starting to redden around the contact area on her thighs. Huh, guess chafing really was a thing. But the intensity of her shoving herself down on him makes him gasp aloud. 

“What's the matter Garrus, giving up?”

But he doesn't. He seizes her hips and props her against him. Now they're equal, with him deep inside of her and their eyes level. Their legs each bent to avoid discomfort on the floor. Their skin pressed against one another. And in that moment the pace and rhythm aren't a frantic competition. They're an acknowledgment. This could be the end. The last contact with another living being. The last intimate moment. And it feels good to be inside of her. It feels good to be with her. It feels good to have her eyes pierce him with a look of understanding no one else can give him.

The line is broken, now. Broken as he calls out her name and she grasps him tightly, her soft flesh gripping him into completion. Broken as they breathe heavily and press their differently textured skin against one another. Broken, as he looks into her eyes. 

And he realizes how much he messed up then. Because her eyes really did force a reality onto him at the speed of well, a high caliber heavy duty sniper rifle. Now, Garrus Vakarian knows that he has crossed a line with Shepard. They have shared a moment together as two people who are not just friends. And he can't help but see it, and feel it.

It meant more than it was meant to. 

They lie in her bed for awhile. She is staring at the ceiling, and he knows she is thinking of what they'll be doing in almost no time from now. Facing the bastards who already killed her once. Facing the force that demanded her to destroy three hundred thousand lives. It could be the end. 

“We'll make it, Shepard. You always find a way,” and it isn't a platitude. He isn't lying to her. Because Shepard finds a way to do anything, and everything. It's why he respects her. Why he would lay down his life for her. Why he would take a bullet for her. 

And their eyes meet when he says this, and he knows there is something inside of him that is threatening to grow. He can see it in her eyes, too, and he is left without words. Neither of them can handle that kind of thing right now. They can't go on professing something they don't even really understand right before they face the Collectors. 

But he knows there is no going back now. Whatever they started here tonight, alone in her bedroom, is something undeniable and unchangeable. 

He reaches his hand over and wipes a lose strand of hair from her face. It is an excuse to touch her again. He doesn't feel any remorse, or desire to say anything more. There's nothing to say. Too much is at stake and he really doesn't understand what's in his mind at all. But he knows he can go in giving it his all despite the chaffing, upset stomach from saliva, discomfort, and the general unknown.

Because at the very least, they had one damn good moment.


End file.
